Sleepers Poem by George Savige
Sleepers
Slowly now
The train is creeping.
Boards beneath
The rails are sleeping.
But time means nought
At all to they,
For sleeping's what
They do all day.
And they just lay there
Dozing deeper,
For each of them
Is called a....'Sleeper'.
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4/19/2024 11:42:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A lovely poem that leaves you wanting more! 10+